Chuck and Sarah versus the Projectiles
by Farringtongirl
Summary: Things keep getting thrown at our beloved duo, but they find a way to make the best of it. Pure CHARAH fluff and fun!


**Chuck and Sarah versus the Projectiles**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or any intellectual property related to the Chuckverse.**

**Summary: Things keep getting thrown at our beloved duo, but they find a way to make the best of it. Pure fluff and fun!**

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas!!**

Sometimes you simply cannot repress the training and your body works on pure instinct to defend itself. For Sarah Walker, this is one of those moments and she knows the instant it happens, that it's a huge mistake. She's not sure what pushes her over the edge, the bodies pressing in on all sides that are making it hard for her to breath or the looming projectile that seems to have honed onto her position, but her spy training kicks in and her hand shoots out to grab the foreboding object. As her fingers curl around the base, a deafening wail of defeat and agony surges upon her, most notably from Anna Wu on her left.

"Fuckernucker!" Sarah raises a quizzical eyebrow and Anna deadpans, "Sometimes, fuck just isn't enough." Her eyes travel down to the bouquet now tightly held in Sarah's fist, "It's probably just as well, if Morgan thought we were next on the 'to be wed' list he might start hyperventilating."

The symbolism of the flower arrangement she's holding kicks her in the gut in a peculiar, though not entirely unpleasant way. Automatically, her eyes seek out Chuck and there he is, already in route to intercept. His eyes are mirthful and he's beaming a proud smile that makes her insides squirm.

"Nice catch. I thought for a moment that Anna was going to tackle you."

Sarah cocks her head to the side, "I could take her." If anything his smile gets bigger and suddenly she gets the joke, "How much money was riding on a catfight over the bouquet?"

"About a hundred bucks."

"So how much did you lose," she asks slipping her arm onto his proffered elbow.

"Not a dime. I knew you'd have it in the bag…uncontested." Sarah stops short beside him, her brow crinkled into her 'explain now' look. He leans in close giving her a hug and whispers in her ear, "Do you honestly think that Elle was going to let any other girl get that bouquet?" He tries not to revel in the slight shiver that travels down her spine, at their proximity. Every once in a while, it's nice to know that Sarah is still human and that he can push her buttons too. Maybe it's that last part that gives him the courage to boldly trace that quivering pathway with warm fingers along the expanse of her back.

When he first saw Sarah in this plum colored bridesmaid dress 6 weeks ago, he thought she looked stunning, but it wasn't until she turned around that he knew he was in trouble. Every inch of translucent skin, from her graceful neck to the base of her spine, was taunting him. Most men love a plunging neckline…those men are idiots, or simply not engineers. First and foremost, a backless dress means no bra and despite his sensitivity and penchant for emitting girlish screams, Chuck is still a guy. And while a V-neck dress may give you a nice view, a low back dress offers a wider array of sensory experience. When you wrap your arms around her to dance, you'll inevitably form innumerable points of contact. The feel of Sarah's goose bumps rising beneath his warm stroking fingertips, isn't something Chuck would trade for a thousand glimpses of her cleavage. _Well maybe._

"What are you thinking about?" There's a goofy grin on Chuck's face and she knows the pathetically breathy sound of her voice is doing nothing to bring this situation back under control. But his presence is more intoxicating than the champagne she's been drinking all afternoon. A bustling of cheers from the Nerd Herd table finally breaks the spell and she's disturbed by the myriad of stares they're receiving. Casey's should be the most pressing of those focused on them, but it's the leering lilt of Jeff and Lester's smiles that send her into a panic. "Chuck?"

"Hmm." Chuck is wrenched from his happy place by Sarah pulling the hair at the base of his neck firmly, "Oww." Okay maybe he'd overstepped their cover boundaries with that little display, but they're supposed to be a couple at a wedding and aren't weddings supposed to make people, especially women, hot? "I'm sorry, I'll tone down the PDA's, I just thought, what with you catching the bouquet and all that some overt affection was in order."

"Yours isn't the touch I'm worried about right now." At his confused expression she can't help but sigh, "Chuck, you've lived a far more normal life than I ever will, surely you know what comes next at a reception?"

As Chuck opens his mouth to reply the booming voice of the DJ washes over the crowd, "Now can I have all the eligible bachelors on the floor, it's time to toss the garter." The James Bond theme begins to play and the irony of the song choice is not lost on either of the pair.

Chuck has never seen anything like it in all his life, every man in the room looks at Sarah and promptly hauls ass onto the dance floor and begins jockeying for position.

"Chuck," his gaze finds her intent blue eyes, "get that garter."

Lester and Jeff are currently fighting to maintain their first row position, and Chuck can't suppress the smile curving onto his lips at the sight of Elle pushing Casey onto the dance floor. "Would it really be so bad…?"

Sarah pulls Chuck by his tie to within an inch of her face, punctuating each word by tightening his Windsor knot, "Get. That. Garter."

She slowly releases the pressure and he can't help but ask, "You've got knives strapped to your thigh, don't you?" One quirked eyebrow is all the confirmation he needs, "Right, I'll just go get the garter now. Kiss for luck?" Her arms cross over her chest, "Didn't think so."

Chuck makes his way over to the seething mass of testosterone and decides immediately that he's going to need reinforcements. "Casey?" The older man stalks toward him, looking none too pleased but apparently too respectful, or fearful, of the bride to leave the dance floor. "Hey Casey, I could use your help to run interference to make sure I get the garter."

"I don't think the NSA would look kindly on my helping the asset to further compromise his relationship with his CIA handler." He scoffs and nudges the nearest drunken frat boy in the ribs for invading his personal space. "That little display when she caught the bouquet was almost more than my stomach could handle and I've been tortured by some of the best."

"I think General Beckman would be much more upset if the garter toss at my sister's wedding were to result in the loss of civilian lives." Chuck bows his head in Sarah's direction, "Specifically Lester or Jeff's."

"I wouldn't be too sure about Jeff." Casey appraises the barely restrained hostility in his partner's eye and nods once. "I can't promise there'll be no injuries." Casey cracks his neck and smiles inwardly as Bartowski twitches at the popping sound.

"Yeah, well I trust you'll do less harm than Sarah." Casey holds his gaze for a moment, challenging, "In this instance and this one alone" Chuck clarifies.

"Alright fella's, get ready." Devon turns his back to the crowd and Chuck's stomach ties into a knot of anxiety. The toss goes high and to the left, directly inline with a group of Buy More employees. Casey barrels through the crowd removing Nerd Herders left and right and providing Chuck with a clear opening. His awkward height proves useful for once as his fingers grasp around the silk and lace fabric. "I got it. I got it!" Unfortunately, he failed to anticipate that this decree would prompt a pile on of aggressive horny single men. Chuck clambers out from beneath the alpha males, breathless but triumphant. There's a stitch in his side and a bruise welling up on his ribs, but the delighted look on Sarah's face is enough to push all thoughts of discomfort behind.

That is until Chuck realizes that the most torturous part of this endeavor is still to come. Sarah's high heel comes into view and her hands are gentle but strong when she helps him to his feet. "Good work, Chuck."

Chuck nervously twists the elaborately decorated white elastic strap, unable to banish the thought of the contrasting smoothness of her skin gliding between his fingers and this sheath of lace. "Sarah?" Every drop of self consciousness in Chuck's being seems telegraphed into that one question.

She leans up on her toes and pulls him down for a brief kiss. Sarah can see the ecstatic look on both Elle and Devon's faces as she places her cheek against Chuck's nuzzling his neck. "We've been dating for almost two years Chuck, as far as anyone in this room knows; your hand on my thigh is not undiscovered country." The hitch of his breath and stutter of his lips couples into the sensation of a gentle nibble on her ear and a sliver of truthful desire slips past unchecked, "Be bold Chuck."

His face draws back from hers and his warm chocolate depths seem to melt her further into his embrace. She can't say what he's looking for, honesty, permission, or something else altogether. But when he captures her lips in a soft velvety kiss, Agent Walker concedes that directive was her second mistake of the day…and potentially the biggest one of her career.

Sarah seems a bit dazed as they part and it strengthens his resolve to follow her advice. Chuck guides her to sit in the chair in the center of the dance floor where an unruly mob has converged.

When the blood stops rushing in her ears, Sarah can make out the sound of 'Oh Yeah' playing in the background and a chorus of cheering, "Chuck, Chuck, Chuck." A wide smile threatens to burst across his face, but it only comes to fruition when Sarah herself smiles at him encouragingly.

"Remember folks, each inch above the knee means an additional 5 years of happiness for the newlyweds."

"Go for it Chuck!" Devon's boisterous call gets the crowd hooting and hollering even louder.

Chuck pushes aside all his doubts, determined instead to enjoy the pursuit of God's most dangerous and elusive beauty…Sarah Walker. He twirls the garter on his finger tip and gives Sarah the patented Bartowski eyebrow dance that Roan gave him so much shit over. Sarah's smile bursts forth and he can tell it's the real one because of the way her eyes crinkle at the edges and the absence of tension in her jaw. He delicately takes her foot and unstraps her sandal. Her smile doesn't falter but her eyes squint in question until he tosses the shoe to the side and rubs the arc of her foot.

Sarah has withstood beatings and torture without making a sound, but nothing short of a gag could have prevented the deep moan that emits from her throat when Chuck presses his knuckle into the soft flesh of her sore foot. She should be embarrassed, but she doesn't even notice the wide eyed spectators surrounding them. Her eyes are firmly trained on her target and damn if he isn't matching the intensity of her gaze.

Chuck slips the garter over her toes, and slowly begins to inch the fabric up over the delicate bone of her ankle. Oddly, he feels no need to tear his eyes from hers to watch the progression. The skin of her calf is disorienting, so supple and smooth, that if not for the lace trim Chuck would never be able to discern her skin from the soft silk of the garter.

When he reaches her knee, Chuck stops briefly. The crowd begins to boo and jeer, but only because they have no idea what havoc this seemingly sweet innocent guy is wreaking on her senses. His thumbs keep toying with the garter along the back of her knee and the crest of her thigh. To keep from squirming, Sarah captures her lip between her teeth as the delicious tension mounts. Chuck slides his hands up along the side split of her dress, dragging the garter along in their wake. The crowd goes wild as his right hand disappears entirely from view, a good seven inches above her knee.

Each inch he advances seems to burn with greater need and compounding heat. His fingertips feel scorched and raw by the time they encounter the cool steel of her concealed blades, just below her hip. Sarah's breathing seems to mimic his own, shallow and rapid.

Her heart stutters dangerously when Chuck's hand methodically retracts from between the garter and her flesh. His hand drifts to the outside of her thigh and begins a slow descent. Their revelry is finally broken when the celebrants break into thunderous applause.

Chuck can feel his ears tinge red and turns his eyes down to focus on reaffixing Sarah's sandal to her foot. Once that task is complete, he chances a look at his date, his handler, his dream, and what he sees in her eyes chases away any residual embarrassment. There's want, which is nothing new, but its ever-present companion of regret is absent. Chuck stands and slowly draws Sarah up into a loose embrace, which she maneuvers into a promising kiss.

She ghosts the words over his lips as they draw apart, "You took one of my knives didn't you?"

Chuck rests his forehead against hers and smiles, "Wow, that's impressive." There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I'm kinda surprised you even noticed."

Sarah folds into his arms as a slow song begins to play, "It's my job to notice." They continue to dance, from one song into the next until the inevitable last dance to Donna Summer's 'Last Dance' plays.

Walking up towards their room, hands swinging comfortably, Chuck can't help but point out, "You haven't asked me to return it."

Sarah smiles, "I don't need to." She watches amused as Chuck pats his jacket pocket to check that the small throwing knife is still there. Sarah opens the room and gives him a gentle push inside. When Chuck manages to produce the item from his pocket, an unspoken question fills his eyes, "Chuck you're a good person," she closes the distance between them. "I have no doubt that you'll put it back," she punctuates each word with a kiss along his neck, "exactly…where…you…found…it."

Chuck tilts her lips up to his, a ridiculously happy grin on his face, "Really?"

Sarah leans her forehead into his and matches his tender smile with one of her own. The kiss which follows is all the answer he needs.

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays all! I woke up with this one rolling through my head this morning and I needed to expel it before I could continue with Chapter 3 of Chuck vs. the Morgan Door, so my apologies to those waiting for an update on that one. **

**This is my first pure fluff one-shot…it's hard for me to put down the mantle of angst…so I'd appreciate any reviews or feedback you may have to offer. Cheers!**


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